


Grace Restored

by Odalis88



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odalis88/pseuds/Odalis88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace Restored is the story of the downfall of Ludus, one of the most notorious slavery rings in the galaxy, and the rebuilding of lives fallen victim to its cruelty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life as a Slave

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this story for a while and love it dearly, though I have a small case of writer's block (I'm currently in chapter 5). I'm hoping feedback and/or suggestions as I post what I have will help get me past this.

“No! God, please let me out! Somebody HELP! Let me out!”

Nasir closed his eyes and shoved fingers into his ears in an effort to dampen the screaming. All new acquisitions screamed like that in the beginning. They all begged for help, as though any of their masters or the customers who perused them cared at all to free them from this hell. The ones who didn’t stop after their initial break-in period were severely punished. 

The woman in the cell opposite him bore the marks of such a chastisement. Because she wouldn’t keep her mouth shut for days after she’d been “broken in,” they’d placed a ring gag in her mouth to keep it permanently open. She’d been moved to a cell with an opening just large enough for her to stick her head out of. Her lesson was to never open her mouth unless she wanted a cock shoved inside it. If she didn’t offer her mouth to any passing male, they had permission to flog her. 

Most punishments were something of that ilk. The slave refused to stop screaming for help, the trainer would force their mouths open and put them to better use. The slave tried to escape, the trainers would hogtie them in uncomfortable positions for long periods at a time until satisfied they’d cooperate and stay put of their own volition. 

His own lesson had been slightly different. He’d been kidnapped outside a bar after refusing the attentions of a young man who had later become one of his masters. Because he’d refused to submit to their “re-education,” they’d subjected him to orgies. Nasir’s lesson was in helplessness. He’d been powerless as they’d passed him around and used him mercilessly. It had been his first time experiencing anal. Before that, he’d been a strict top. Even after several gang-bangs, he was still inclined to disobey. That’s when his trainers had introduced their new invention: Training collars. 

Now with the push of a button, the master could force their will on their slave. Nasir despised it, but there was nothing to be gained from fighting the influence of the collar. He would lose and his handler would be angry for the disobedience. 

The one decent thing to come as a result of the training collars was a half hour of exercise time twice a week. Customers paid more for good-looking slaves, and because sitting in cells for weeks on end caused muscles to atrophy, the masters agreed to let slaves work out periodically – under heavy supervision, of course. If they did anything that was seen as a threat or an escape attempt, the training collar had a “stun” setting that their masters were not at all adverse to use. Nasir knew from experience how much it sucked to wake up after being knocked unconscious. 

Jogging on the treadmill and occasionally using the weights was the only thing Nasir had to look forward to and if the handlers stuck to their usual schedule, they’d soon bring him and a few more well-behaved slaves to the exercise room. 

As if on cue, the one who observed their workout entered their holding area. He was an older man, yet powerfully built with flat, lean muscles displayed beneath his black sleeveless shirt. Nasir didn’t know his name. The trainers called him M, but Nasir and the other slaves were only allowed to call him and the other men Master or Sir. 

M walked past each cage slowly, pausing now and then to stare thoughtfully at the slave inside. As this was totally unlike his typical “exercise time” demeanor, Nasir thought it a safe bet to guess something else was happening. M pulled slaves out of their cages one at a time and did a quick visual inspection of them. He’d grunt in disapproval if he found healing wounds and then locked them up again. After ten minutes, he’d collected a group of six slaves, all of whom were beautiful, unmarked young men. 

They were at the door when M stopped them abruptly and told them to wait while he strode back into the room. Nasir stared at the floor of his cell, praying that M wasn’t going to bring him along. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt a strong sense of foreboding about where these slaves were being taken. He didn’t want to go. 

But fate seemed ever determined to fuck him over. M soon unlocked his door and ordered him in line with the rest. They were led down two long hallways before coming to a primitive washroom. The large tile-lined room had shower spigots along the right wall, a gently sloping floor with a large drain in the center of it, and a shelf with scratchy, hastily folded towels next to the door. 

“Get washed up, dogs.”

Nasir and the other six slaves each went to a spigot and waited for M to turn on the water. They didn’t need to get undressed first. Slaves never wore anything except their collar, and whatever bondage equipment their masters saw fit to adorn them with. One of their first lessons was that a whore had no modesty.

The water was actually lukewarm, a rare treat. Whenever it came time for bathing in the past, one of their handlers would simply hose them off in their cell, and the water was usually freezing. Trying to ignore the knot in his gut, Nasir let himself enjoy the shower. The only thing that would have made it better was soap. 

All too soon, the water shut off. 

“Dry off. Hurry up! Leave the towels on the floor.”

Next, M brought them up two flights of stairs into a surprisingly elegant, carpeted hallway. He hadn’t felt carpet beneath his bare feet since before his enslavement. The dark, wood-paneled walls were lined with candles, which was the only source of light until they reached a fancy drawing room. The floors below where the slaves were kept and trained was a refurbished prison. Nasir had had no idea all this was on top of that nightmare.

“Backs against the opposite wall. No talking, no moving from that spot. Be on your best behavior when our guest arrives or I’ll personally give you fifty lashes. Then I’ll punish all of you.” And with that, M sat down on an overstuffed armchair, pulled out a handheld e-ledger, and started reading. 

There was no clock in the room, but Nasir estimated they waited for about half an hour before another of their masters burst into the room. Nasir’s sight dimmed when he saw who it was; this was the little prick who’d drugged and kidnapped him. He was a younger version of M, shorter and with a boyish face framed by short black hair, but the resemblance was strong. Though the other trainers called him T, M often called the young man “junior.”

T took one look at the line of slaves, his gaze narrowing on Nasir, then rounded on M.

“What are you doing? Why is _he_ here?”

M looked up, untroubled by T’s ire. “You know why. This potential client is very important. Could lead to a lot of business in the future.”

“You know what I mean, fath- I mean, Sir,” T whined. “ _That_ one is mine. _I_ captured him, and _I_ trained him. I’m returning him to the cages.”

M sneered and returned his attention to his e-ledger. “You can’t handle the Syrian by yourself. We’ll find you a boy more your own speed to play with, don’t worry.”

Face bright red in anger, T strode over to stand in front of Nasir. “He thinks I can’t handle you?” T snarled, grabbing Nasir’s chin roughly. “We’ll show him. Kneel, slave.”

Nasir’s eyes flickered briefly to M, still reclining in the armchair, then returned to rest on T’s eager face. He remained standing, as still as a statue. Though slaves were taught to maintain a blank expression at all times, he couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of pleasure at being able to disobey the little sadist’s sharp command, and he had a feeling it showed on his face. 

T flushed further. “Get down!” He backhanded Nasir. 

“ _Hey!_ ” That prompted M to get up and pull T back by the scruff of his shirt collar. “The Mistress doesn’t want to sell the senator damaged goods. You didn’t mark his face, did you?” M peered anxiously at Nasir’s cheek. 

“He refused to obey my order!” T said, shrugging out of M’s grasp. 

“The Syrian is smart enough to know who’s the boss. He was obeying _my_ orders. Now get lost. I don’t want you around when Quin brings in our client.”

But T wouldn’t be so easily denied. “I don’t want him sold! I’ll bring you another one – just give me ten minutes. _He_ is mine.”

At this, M actually growled and forcibly pulled T away from the line of silent slaves. 

“You own nothing! You have been given the privilege of bagging and training new slaves for the Mistress. Every single one of them belongs to her and she can do with them what she likes. You are a spoiled child who covets his neighbor’s toy. The senator hasn’t even picked one yet, so the Syrian might yet remain in house. But know this, boy, I’m not the only one who is aware of your unhealthy obsession with him. If it continues, you’ll have your privileges of using him revoked. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Face and neck glowing in fury and embarrassment, T glared at Nasir, who took the opportunity while M’s back was turned to give T a tiny, mocking smirk. He knew he’d pay for that cheekiness later, but maybe if he pissed T off enough, the little prick would pop a blood vessel in his brain before he could exact revenge.

T barred his teeth at him in a grimace, and exited the room in a huff.

Sighing after T in what sounded like disappointment, M walked back over to Nasir and turned his face toward the light to better see the dull red mark on his cheek where T had struck him. 

“Shit,” he murmured to himself. “I seriously hope this guy takes you off our hands. Way more trouble than you’re worth.”


	2. The Senator's Arrival

Agron hated suits. Well, he hated _wearing_ them. He did enjoy oogling _other_ men wearing suits. 

He resisted the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt and loosen his tie. He was here to do a job and had to act like the high-class senator he was pretending to be. 

The man guiding him through the elegant house had introduced himself only as “Quin.” Despite pulling every string he could, getting names – real names – in a place like this was nearly impossible. Though he was treated with the utmost respect, Agron couldn’t help but feel slimy simply by virtue of his close proximity to Quin. The middle-aged man acted like a slick, used car salesman; in his own twisted mind that was probably how he viewed the wares he sold – inanimate objects existing only to do his bidding.

“My wife and I pride ourselves in obtaining high-quality products and boast a very successful training program, if I do say so myself,” Quin smiled sideways at him as they walked. “I have an excellent selection awaiting you, my Lord. As we get to know each other better, I hope to be able to provide you with slaves tailor-made to suit your needs and desires, but I’m quite certain you’ll be pleased with our options for you today.”

Agron made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and preceded Quin into a fancy drawing room. A man almost as tall as him rose from a stuffed armchair as he entered. He tried to maintain eye contact with him, yet his gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the seven naked men lined up against the far wall.

Quin chuckled as he saw the direction of his stare. “Marvelous, aren’t they? But before we get to that, may I introduce you to Marc?” The tall man extended his hand and Agron shook it automatically, most of his attention still on the silent row of men. “He’s our senior handler.”

“How do you do?”

Marc bowed his head slightly. “Very well, my Lord. And yourself?”

Agron didn’t hear the question and Quin laughed out loud this time. “I can see the Senator wants no more small talk. Marc, if you would show off your fine work?”

“Absolutely.”

Agron followed Marc until they stood before the seven collared men. His jaw clenched as anger ripped through him, but he kept it from showing on his face. This wasn’t just another job for him – it was personal. 

“Standing present.” The slaves modified their postures slightly to be ones of identical submission, head down, feet together, and hands clasped behind their backs. 

“Kneel.” At the command, they all sank to the floor, heads bowed, with their hands resting on their thighs. “Present.” They rose in synchronicity to their knees, with their hands behind their backs and their chests pushed out.

“Bow.” The slaves immediately dropped and pressed their foreheads to the floor. 

Agron felt bile rise in his throat and willed himself not to vomit at the display. “That’s – They’re very…impressive.”

“Aren’t they just?” Quin said happily, misinterpreting his speechless state for awe-struck wonder. “Conditioned to obey any order. Oh, and see those collars around their necks? Marc, tell him what they do.”

“Training collars,” Marc said at once. He raised his arm to show Agron a simple wrist cuff with five different colored buttons. “Red activates their sex drive, green forces them obey your last command – not that you’ll need that one, Sir,” he chuckled and nudged Agron with an elbow. “Blue stalls them, yellow releases them to their own power after you’ve hit green, and black knocks them unconscious.”

“Yes, you see, Marc’s bracelet works on the lot of them, but once you make a purchase, you’ll have a similar remote that’ll be programmed specifically for him. It’s like owning a thermostat. You know it’ll do what you want, but occasionally you need to make small adjustments.”

“Ingenious.” Agron’s throat was tight and he cleared it. “How long have you employed these training collars?”

“Oh,” Quin looked to Marc for confirmation. “About…ten months, do you say? Nearly a year? Ludus is the only company in the industry who has them! My wife is actually the one who invented them. She has the lion’s share of the beauty _and_ the brains in our marriage.” He beamed. “Would you like to see the remote in action? The handlers have taken to activating their sex drive and then stalling them. Very entertaining to watch the struggle – it’s all in the eyes. Burning from unspent lust and unable to voluntarily move a muscle. It turns out that the penis is the only part of the body that isn’t affected by the little blue button. Shall Marc show you?”

“No, please, that’s not necessary!” 

“Thinking of a more private demonstration, perhaps? Something to look forward to on that first night home, I bet.” Agron nodded dumbly before Quin barreled on. “Well, Marc, get them on their feet so the good Senator can have a proper look.”

“You heard the man. Standing present.” The slaves rose in unison, faces lowered. 

“Um, eyes up, perhaps?” Quin suggested. “Let the Senator have a proper look at their pretty faces. And please, Sir, feel free to inspect any inch of them at your leisure. You’re free to touch.”

“But Mr. Q told you of our strict policy, right? You break it, you buy it.”

Quin laughed at Marc’s dry tone, but said no more as Agron slowly approached the first man. _Young_ man. None of them looked to be older than their late teens – maybe early twenties. It made him, pushing 30 himself, feel like a dirty old man for looking at possibly under-age, naked men. 

_Stop stalling and get a move on!_ Agron chastised himself for feeling bad, and renewed focus on his purpose for being here. He just needed to choose a slave and get the hell out. Thinking about his mission gave him an idea.

“Mr. Marc, have you had disciplinary problems with any of these men? The slaves you show me are so docile and compliant. I would like one with some spirit. I’m told they’re more…rewarding to break.”

Quin guffawed as Marc answered promptly. “The Syrian, Sir. He was quite a handful during training and even now, I sometimes see that spark of defiance in his eyes. He’s perfect for a man like you. Step forward!” The last he barked out at the line of slaves and a dark haired, dark eyed man came forth. 

“Beautiful,” Agron said before he could censor himself. It was the first truly honest thing that had come out of his mouth in the past hour of his being here. The Syrian, as he was called by Marc, was gorgeous – speaking strictly in reference to his face. Agron didn’t allow his gaze to fall lower than the Syrian’s chin. He would give the man what small nugget of modesty he could.

He didn’t know if it was the bold way the slave squarely met his gaze, or the slight curling of his lip that said _you’re not so tough,_ but he saw that fiery spirit at once. A genuine smile curved his lips for the first since he’d entered this godforsaken place. 

“I want him.”

“Excellent!” Quin said, raising an arm as though to clap Agron on the back, but lowering it at the last second as though he’d thought better of the gesture. “Now my Lord, please jog my memory – I do not recall receiving any paperwork regarding how you wish your new purchase to be groomed. As you can see, we leave them a blank canvas so their new owner can do with them what they wish.”

“Uh… Grooming isn’t necessary.”

“Are you quite sure? We provide this service free of charge to you, Sir. We can have him shaved, waxed, branded, tattooed, pierced…?”

The Syrian’s eyes narrowed on him minutely, as though daring Agron to do any of those things to him. “Pierced? Like earrings?”

“Oh, sure. Ears, anywhere on the face, the tongue – one of my personal slaves has a row of piercings down the center of her tongue, makes oral sex amazing, trust me. You can also pierce the nipples, and there are several types of genital piercings. We have display models, if you wish to see them. Very attractive.”

“I like watching the spirited ones get pierced,” Marc said, shooting the Syrian a vicious, sideways look. “Takes them down a notch. It also gives their owner greater options for restricting their movements.”

“Such as clipping their nose ring to your belt buckle, or locking them to something by their genital piercing in punishment,” Quin inserted helpfully. 

“Or for fun,” Marc taunted, smiling at the remaining slaves. 

“I do not require your grooming services, thank you.”

Quin bowed slightly. “As you wish, my Lord.” He turned to Marc. “Thank you for the fine presentation, M. You may return the rest to their quarters.”

Without further comment, Marc nodded respectfully to Agron and snapped his fingers at the six remaining slaves. They left the room quickly and silently. 

“If you’ll come this way, my Lord, we’ll conclude our business in my office.” As they neared the hallway, Quin snagged a long black leather leash hanging from the wall. He offered it politely to Agron. 

“No, thank you.” He glanced at the Syrian, who followed them at a distance of several feet. “I trust you won’t give me any trouble while we’re here, will you?”

The barest hint of a smile touched his lips. “Of course not, master.” The light in his eyes promised trouble after they left, but not while they were still in the training house.

Quin laughed easily. “He’ll keep you entertained, I think. I can put you in touch with an acquaintance of mine if you ever have trouble thinking of imaginative punishments for that one. He’s a sadistic bastard, but has the most wonderful ideas.”

Agron forced a cruel smile on his face. The last thing he wanted was for Quin or anyone at Ludus to think he couldn’t handle one rebellious slave. “I’m plenty creative on my own, but thanks for the offer.”

***

Before Agron could think of an acceptable protest, Quin knocked the Syrian unconscious with his new training collar remote before they could leave. Luckily, he’d caught the slave before he hit the ground. This was common practice when transporting slaves off-planet. The purpose was to keep the captive as disoriented as possible and to lessen opportunities for escape. 

“Not that any of our products would attempt such a horrible thing,” Quin had assured him silkily. “But it’s for your own protection until they get settled in their new home.”

Now Agron had a sleeping slave in the back of his small fighter. Ludus had provided him with complimentary wrist and ankle cuffs as a parting gift, though he had steadfastly refused their offer to hogtie the Syrian upon his departure. He sighed heavily and began preparing for launch. When had his life become so complicated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I didn't just make up these horrible Training Collars. I borrowed them from Sherrilyn Kenyon's League series. The Ichidian Universe is where Grace Restored is set when I'm writing, but as it's not the main focus of this story, nor did I base it on any of her novels like I did with Human Mate, it's not really necessary to know about it in advance.


	3. Home Free

Nasir woke silently cursing that damn collar. Regaining consciousness after being knocked out like that always made him feel nauseous. He breathed in and out slowly until the churning in his stomach passed. It was only then that he noticed his surroundings. 

He lay in a small bedroom, clean and sparsely furnished. He was on a very comfortable bed. When he pulled back the soft covers, he received a shock. He was wearing pants! 

Well, they were pajama bottoms, but close enough. They were large and had to be tied tightly around his waist to prevent them from slipping off when he stood up. Then to keep from tripping over them, he rolled up the hem three times. 

Wearing clothes again felt strange. Being in this completely normal-looking room felt surreal, almost like the past two years of his life hadn’t happened and he was just waking up from a bad dream. But the collar resting on his neck brought it all back. 

He’d been purchased by a senator – for what empire, he had no idea. Nasir was about to lay back down and wait for his master to fetch him when he saw a note handwritten in the universal language on the bedside table in a neat, masculine script. 

_Good morning (or afternoon, depending on how long you sleep),_

_The kitchen is down the hall to your left and through the living room. Help yourself to anything in there if you’re hungry. You have free reign of the house until I come home. If you want to watch or rent movies through the media center in the living room, go ahead – my account is already set up. If you’d rather read, the bookshelf is in my office two doors to your right._

_I’ll be at work until 6, but if you need to contact me for any reason, my personal line is number 2 on the link’s speed dial next to your bed._

_Please don’t leave the house until I have a chance to talk to you!_

_-Agron_

Nasir had to read the note several times to make sure he understood it. Something wasn’t right here. Senators didn’t just buy slaves to then treat them like house guests. He hesitated before attempting to open the door to his room, half expecting it to be locked and for the note to be a jest, but it slid open noiselessly. 

The rest of the house was like the room he’d woken up in. Modest was a good word for it. Spartan, almost. Not at all what he’d expect from a rich senator. Nasir snorted out loud when he reached the kitchen and realized how stupid he was. Senator Agron – if that was his real name – probably had multiple houses. People who kept slaves didn’t live as though they were making minimum wage. This was obviously not Agron’s primary home. 

As he searched the pantry and cooling unit for food, Nasir invented an entire backstory for Agron based on what little he knew about him. Senator Agron probably had a family in his main residence but had to keep slaves elsewhere because… 

Because he didn’t want to flaunt his male whore in front of his wife. That was it. Agron needed to keep him hidden from the rest of his family, who thought their patriarch to be the straight, good upstanding senator he pretended to be for the press. He’d probably be away a lot, spending time working or with his wife – kids maybe? 

Ugh! He was going to drive himself crazy speculating. This needed to stop.

He settled on an apple from the bowl on the counter and spent the next fifteen minutes searching the house – and fifteen minutes was a generous estimate. It was small and didn’t take long. 

Nothing very exciting here. He saved Agron’s office for last, where he presumably spent a lot of time. But even here, there was an empty, almost un-lived in quality to it. This, more than anything else, cemented Nasir’s notion that Agron had a second house. Where else would he spend most of his time?

Nasir returned to the spare bedroom Agron had converted into a little gym. Given some free time, this was how he’d like to spend it. 

***

Agron arrived home at a quarter after six. He heard the faint hum of the treadmill coming from his makeshift gym, but it stopped after he shut and locked the door. Dumping the laundry bag he was carrying onto the couch, he went in search of his…guest. 

He wasn’t in the gym anymore, but in the bedroom where Agron had left him the night prior. 

Nasir stood quietly in the center of the room, eyes cast down and heart pounding – and not just from his run. He hated this feeling of helplessness, of staring into the unknown. He also despised having to fight his natural instincts. It was not in his character to be meek and subservient, but that’s all he was now – a senator’s plaything, an object.

All of Nasir’s preconceived notions of senators, that they were merely fat and lazy politicians who only cared about money and status, flew out the window when confronted with this man. Now that the senator was wearing normal clothes, Nasir could see the muscular body that had been hidden beneath the poncy-looking suit. It turned out there hadn’t been much padding beneath it, as he’d originally thought. He was obviously well-acquainted with every piece of workout equipment in his gym. 

The cuff that controlled his collar wasn’t noticeable on his master’s wrist out of the top of his peripheral vision, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nearby. As much as he wanted to run, to fight, the man’s size was disheartening. The prospect of escape had been much more attractive when he’d thought his master was plump and unhealthy.

“Um… Can I – can we talk? At the breakfast table, maybe?”

Nasir bobbed his head once. “Yes, master.”

Agron let out a sound that was half a nervous laugh and half a scoff before turning and leading him through to the kitchen. 

At his master’s tense gesture, he slowly took a seat at the glass breakfast table. 

“So, Nasir, I hope –”

“How do you know my name?” Nasir demanded, meeting his gaze straight on. He hadn’t planned on giving his true name to anyone ever again. Let his master call him whatever he liked, but his name was the last vestige of his own identity, and be damned if this prick would own that too.

He was angry until the senator’s eyes widened and red suffused his cheeks – that’s when he realized his horrible mistake. “I’m so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for speaking out of turn and for interrupting you, Sir. I was caught off guard. It won’t happen again.” He clenched his eyes shut, very aware of his leg trembling irrepressibly beneath the table and the fact that Agron could see it plainly through the glass. He was not making a good first impression by earning a punishment within the first minute and a half of being alone in his company.

Agron rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “No, that’s fine. You’re free to speak whatever’s on your mind. I know your name because I, uh… I ran your fingerprints through our missing person’s database and got a hit. I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Detective Hart – or Agron. Just call me Agron. I’m an undercover detective.”

Nasir looked up at Agron with eyes narrowed in suspicion, but didn’t respond. 

“I came to Ludus under false pretenses. I lied and said I was a senator. My department helped set me up with a fake identify so I could go in and make connections and talk to people, to get inside information on their slavery ring and how it’s run. My boss got an absurdly large grant from the government so that I could go in and purchase a slave. We’re hoping you would be able to provide us with information that’ll help take Ludus down.”

Where the hell was his calm exterior?! Nasir knew without looking in a mirror that his face was not the blank expression they’d beaten into him during re-education. “Sir, I’m confused. Do I belong to you, your department, or your government?” 

“None of the above.” Agron leaned forward eagerly. “You’re on back home on Caron. The Caronese Empire does not recognize any form of slavery. There are parts of the galaxy where it is legal, but the moment any slave enters our atmosphere, they’re considered a free person.”

Nasir cradled his head in his hands, staring at his knees through the glass tabletop, and let those words sink in. “I’m free?” It seemed too good to be real. And something was still bothering him. “Then why am I still wearing a collar?” he asked accusingly. 

Agron stood and gestured to the garage door. “I’ll need to use some power cutters to get it off, and I wanted to wait until you were awake. It didn’t seem like a safe thing to do to an unconscious person.”

“Let’s go now,” Nasir said, half expecting the man to waver on his declaration, but Agron led the way into his garage without further preamble. He’d peeked in here earlier when it had been empty. In addition to a collection of tools and a fighter jet, it now held Agron’s small, two-person transport. 

“Now hold still…” 

“No,” Nasir muttered sarcastically as Agron lined up the power tool. “I thought now would be a great time for me to dance a little jig.”

Agron smiled, displaying a deep-set dimple in each cheek, but stayed focused on cutting the collar from Nasir’s neck. When the weight was finally lifted from his shoulders, he felt like he wanted to collapse. It was over. He wasn’t a slave anymore. 

Nasir leaned against a work table to keep from falling down. So many emotions roiled within him that it made him dizzy. All he could think was, _I’m free_. 

Apparently thinking him on the brink of a nervous collapse, Agron put a hand under his elbow to offer him support. He jerked away instinctively.

“Do you mind not touching me right now? After having no control over my own body for so long, I can’t bear anyone’s touch. No offense.”

Hands held up in surrender, Agron nodded kindly. “None taken. I’m sorry.”

“Literally, the thought of touching anyone makes me physically ill. Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t even like you looking at me like this.” Nasir crossed his arms self-consciously across his bare chest. 

“That I can fix. Follow me.” 

Agron brought him into the living room and patted a bulging laundry bag. “This is why I was late getting home today. These should fit you better than any of my clothes would, though the pants may still be a bit too long.”

Nasir looked in the bag and saw the stacks of freshly laundered shirts and slacks. “Did you just buy these?”

Grief crossed Agron’s brow. “Uh, no. They belonged to my brother. You can keep them though. He’s not going to be coming around looking for them. He’s, uh, dead.”

“I’m sorry.” They were empty words, he knew, but what else could one say upon hearing that?

Agron sniffed and pulled himself back together. “It’s been almost nine years since I lost him. I’m fine.”

Not knowing what to say next, Nasir pulled a long-sleeved shirt from the bag and slipped it over his head right there in the middle of Agron’s living room. Being covered from neck to ankles made him feel protected somehow. 

“So, Nasir, have you eaten dinner yet? I’m starving. Want to order delivery?”

“That sounds great.”

“What do you feel like? Your choice.”

Nasir shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with making a decision. He hadn’t had to think for himself for almost two years. “Whatever you want is fine.”

Agron seemed to sense his tension and didn’t force the subject. “Pizza sound good? I’m craving a meat-lovers in the best possible way.”

He nodded and Agron left to make the call. Nasir felt like smiling as he brought the bag of clothes to his room. When he’d first seen Agron, he’d hated him on principle. What kind of cold-blooded monster wanted to buy a human being? But his first impression of the man had been way off. He felt in his gut that he could trust him.

Rubbing his neck where the collar used to reside, Nasir’s mind strayed from the man who’d rescued him to his future. He hated the unknown, yet that’s all that lay before him. He was free now, but what next? He’d been halfway through his master’s degree when his life had been stolen from him. His kidnappers had cleaned out his life savings and he had no family to lean on while he got back on his feet. 

The lack of future he saw terrified him; his lack of purpose in life depressed him. 

Trying not to dwell on those dark thoughts, Nasir returned to the living room in search of Agron. 

“Hey, man –” he’d barely caught himself before saying Sir – “when do I get grilled about everything I know regarding the slavery ring? Am I going to work with you tomorrow to talk with detectives?”

Agron shook his head and grabbed two beers from the cooling unit. “I don’t think you should have to go through all that so soon. I thought we could go in a few days once you get your sea-legs again, so to speak.”

A part of Nasir was grateful Agron didn’t want to question him right away. But… “No. I’m doing a hell of a lot better than the ones still living under their control. I couldn’t live with myself thinking that while I was stalling the investigation, any number of them could have been sold off. I’d like to help you bring those assholes down.”

Agron gave him a brilliant smile that made Nasir’s heart stutter for some reason. 

“You are without doubt, the strongest person I’ve ever met.”


	4. PTSD

Nasir woke from a light, restless sleep to the sounds of Agron in the kitchen. An amazing smell wafting through his room prompted him to wrap himself in a bathrobe and go investigating. 

“Morning.” Agron smiled cheerfully at him. “I was hoping breakfast would rouse you out of bed. Dig in.” He had already made himself a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, and gravy. 

“That’s for me?” Nasir stared at the bounty dumbly before grabbing a plate for himself. “Thank you.”

Agron shrugged. “No problem. Did you sleep at all?”

It was Nasir’s turn to shrug. To be honest, he hadn’t slept more than a few winks last night. He tossed and turned a lot thinking about the black hole that was his future. He made a non-committal noise in response.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you yesterday that I made an appointment for you to see my doctor.”

“ _Oh?_ ” Nasir mimicked rudely. “You did, did you?”

Agron looked up in surprise at the anger in his tone. “What?”

“It never occurred to you to _ask_ before making any appointments for me? You’re not my master, I don’t have to go where you tell me to.”

“Whoa!” The calmness of Agron’s voice only pissed him off more. “I don’t understand why you’re upset. I just want to make sure you’re healthy after twenty-two months in captivity. If Quin hadn’t knocked you out before we left, I’d have made sure you saw someone right away. This is standard for everyone in your situation… that and a few sessions with a therapist.” 

He knew Nasir’s light had been on most of the night. Insomnia coupled with this sudden outburst of anger made Agron almost certain Nasir had some form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after his ordeal. After what he’d been through, how could he not be affected? Agron knew it was only a matter of time before other symptoms manifested and talking to a licensed professional would be very important.

“A _what?_ ” Nasir stood up and paced, feeling agitated. He didn’t know exactly why he was so angry since Agron was only trying to help. It was just the idea of Agron making decisions like that _for_ him that rubbed him the wrong way. “I don’t need a fucking shrink. I’m fine.”

Agron turned in his chair to face him; his police training told him to remain seated. He didn’t want to crowd Nasir or for the man to feel threatened by him. “Absolutely, you are. This is just to placate my boss. It’s policy I can’t break. I shouldn’t have made appointments without telling you, and that’s on me. But will you consent to go? Please?”

Looking at that serene face made it hard to maintain his anger, and as soon as it had erupted, he felt it dissipate. He gave Agron a small nod. Then, unwilling to return to the table to finish his meal with his tail between his legs, Nasir crossed his arms and leaned back against a counter, trying not to let his embarrassment show in his expression. He jumped when a sudden ringing sounded behind him. 

“It’s just my link,” Agron said soothingly, moving slowly as he reached around him to answer it. “Hey, Spar,” he greeted. He paused then responded, “I think maybe an hour? Unless you need us in sooner… No, that’s great, thank you.” He hung up. 

“That was my Captain asking when we were coming in to talk about Ludus. Like I said yesterday, it’s fine if you want to delay this a few days, he won’t be mad.”

Nasir tapped his heel, resisting the urge to start pacing to relieve the sudden buildup of pent-up energy that filled him; he’d done enough pacing last night. “No, I said I’d go and I will. I want to help. I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to tell you anything useful. They kept us pretty much in the dark about how things ran.”

“I’m sure you know more than you think, even things you think aren’t helpful may make all the difference.” Agron began cleaning up the remnants of breakfast. “If you want to finish eating and get dressed, we can get going. I don’t know how long you’ll be questioned for, but I’ll take you home right after, if you want.”

Nodding mutely, Nasir returned to his room to change into slacks, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. 

***

Nasir remained pretty silent throughout the 20 minute ride to the station. Agron didn’t push him into conversation, but glanced every so often at the man next to him. He could tell Nasir was endeavoring to keep a lid on his excitement on seeing the outside world, even the mundane street view they currently had. It gave him an idea of where he’d like to take Nasir when they were done with the questioning. 

When they arrived, Agron led Nasir in through a seldom-used back entrance, both to remain as out of sight as he could, and to keep Nasir from being overwhelmed with the amount of strangers he was encountering. Though Nasir claimed to be “totally fine,” he was definitely walking as close to Agron as he could without actually touching him. It gave Agron the strange compulsion to wrap an arm around the man’s shoulders so that he’d know he was safe in his company. 

Just as he was leading Nasir into an empty interrogation room, Spartacus found them. 

“Agron! You’re earlier than I expected. Am I right in thinking this is Mr. Zaki?”

“Morning, Spar. This is Nasir Zaki. Nasir, meet Captain Spartacus.”

Spartacus held out a hand in greeting and Nasir took it somewhat reluctantly, fighting the impulse to drop his eyes to the floor. “Sir.”

“Oh, no need to be formal. Spartacus will do just fine, please,” his captain corrected amicably. “Why don’t you two get comfy in there,” he pointed to the interrogation room, “while I go round up Crixus so we can get started. Nasir, can I get you anything to drink? Water or coffee or anything?” 

“No, thank you.” 

As Spartacus turned to bound into the bullpen, Agron called after him, “Water! Thanks for asking!”

He gave Nasir a smile as they sat. He chose the seat next to Nasir, hoping to offer what support he could. “You doing okay?”

Nodding automatically, Nasir began chewing on his lower lip. Why had he agreed to come here? He didn’t know anything that could help take Ludus down. This was a huge fucking waste of everybody’s time. He was utterly worthless. Agron should have chosen another slave to rescue, one that had half a brain and who could actually aid in the investigation. 

“Why did you tell M you wanted a slave with disciplinary problems?”

Agron turned to look at him. “Who?”

“M. Marc, I guess his name is. You asked for ‘one with spirit’.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his hands folded on the table. “I thought – hoped – that a man who still rebelled a little would have an easier time of reentering the world quicker than one who’d been broken by them. Obviously the goal is to rescue everybody, but maybe that would happen faster if the slave I got out first had a real desire and drive to make them pay for what they did. Was I wrong?”

Nasir sat silent for several minutes, contemplating his answer. “No, you’re not wrong. But now that I’m here, I don’t think I’m the one to help you. I can’t do anything right. I’ve had to re-do entire semesters at school, I royally fucked up with my family until they all disowned me, and I was completely helpless as they kidnapped me and turned me into a…a thing with no feelings, no dignity. I mean, dogs are treated better than we were. When you bought me I wasn’t human. You freed me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be human again.”

What he wanted more than anything was to pull Nasir into a hug, but the other man had already expressed his desire not to be touched, and Agron would abide by his wishes. 

“I know it seems that way now, but I promise it’ll get better. I’m going to help you heal and move on with your life. I knew you were strong – Nasir, look at me, please.” He waited until those deep brown eyes met his. “I knew you were strong the first time I saw you and you were looking at me like you wanted to slug me in the jaw. That fire inside you, it’s not going to let you give up on yourself. I won’t give up on you either.”

Before Nasir had the chance to respond, the door opened and Agron’s captain and another man, hugely muscled with a wealth of shaggy brown hair, entered. 

Let the interrogation begin…

***

“That wasn’t as bad as I expected,” Nasir murmured while sipping the cappuccino Agron had just bought for him. 

“They were easy on you because you aren’t a suspect in a crime. And I warned them that if they offended you in any way, they’d get their ass handed to them in our weekly kickboxing class.”

The corner of Nasir’s mouth turned up. “You could take down your captain? And your partner?”

Agron shot him a look of mock hurt. “You doubt me?”

Nasir shrugged. “Crixus is very…wide.”

“And short. I can totally take him.”

Nasir nodded. “Of course you can,” he said in a placating, slightly patronizing, tone.

Grinning, Agron lifted his cup to hide his delight. He loved whenever Nasir got snarky with him. It didn’t happened often, but he had a feeling it was the other man’s true nature shining through. He hoped as they got to know each other better and as Nasir began healing it would be out in full force. 

“Hey, I had an idea earlier. Since I don’t have to work for the rest of the day and your doctor’s appointment isn’t until 3:30, I thought we might go hiking. There are some great trails through the National Forest. It’s the perfect time of year to go since it’s not all iced-over yet. And if you want, there are a few free-climbing opportunities if you’re interested in that kind of thing.”

Nasir suppressed a smile at Agron’s enthusiasm. “You go hiking often?”

“Yeah! Any chance I get, I love to hike. A few of the more challenging trails very rarely have other people on them. The solitude is nice. I like getting away from the city every so often and just getting to relax. For me it’s kind of…detoxing? Maybe that’s the wrong way to describe it. But do you want to go? We can bring food and have lunch up there. Totally up to you. I can also take you home or we can do something else.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Nasir agreed. “I’m up for it. But I don’t exactly have the shoes for hiking.”

“There’s a place where we can rent gear, so it won’t be a problem. Yes!” Agron slammed his empty coffee down on the table. “I haven’t done this in so long and I’m super excited. Let’s go now!”

Nasir laughed out loud and followed him to his transport. Agron’s gusto was catching and he actually found himself looking forward to it.

***

Breathing heavily, Agron rested against a tree, waiting for Nasir to catch up. He turned to look at him, and felt his chest tighten. Nasir’s cheeks were slightly flushed and the hair around his face was plastered against his skin. In his eyes shone astonished excitement, like this was his first time seeing the world. For the second time, Agron was struck by his beauty – it felt like a blow to his head by a two-by-four. 

How could one man be so exceedingly handsome? They’d come to a clearing in the trees where the sun could shine unimpeded upon his exquisite features. Agron didn’t comprehend human cruelty or violence – how did one find pleasure in someone else’s pain? – but he especially didn’t understand how anyone could have kidnapped and enslaved someone as beautiful as Nasir. Surely, it would be like caging an angel, would it not? 

“Can you make it a little further? It’s only about a hundred more feet up before we reach the top. The view is phenomenal.”

Still panting, Nasir walked right up to Agron. “Can _I_ make it? I was going to ask you the same thing, old man. I got this.” Then he strode past Agron and followed the well-worn trail up the mountain. Hearing Agron’s laugh behind him made him smile. He resisted the urge to twist around to catch a glimpse of those beguiling dimples. 

When they both reached the end of the trail, Nasir collapsed unabashedly onto an overturned tree trunk. He was tired and out of shape, but the climb had been worth it to see this view. 

“Up is hard. I can run for miles on a treadmill, but it has no incline.”

“I know what you mean. It gets easier the more you do it.”

Agron sat beside him and started pointing out features of the landscape one couldn’t view from below. 

“See, this is only the fourth highest point in the forest. There was actually a huge fire a couple years ago on that peak,” he pointed to the mountain directly to the south. “And there’s still a bunch of debris and shit on the trail, so it’s closed until they can get equipment up there to clear it. Down there,” he pointed to a rocky outcropping below them, “there’s a small network of caves you can visit. It doesn’t go very deep, but it’s still pretty cool.”

“I love it here. I’d like to come back some time.”

“That can easily happen. Unless it’s under three feet of snow or I’m swamped with work, I’m normally up here at least once a month. We can go next weekend though, if you’re in the mood.”

They sat in companionable silence until Agron’s stupid inner voice forced him to speak. 

“Nasir, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Agron wasn’t looking at him and his usual easy-going demeanor was absent; in its place was a stiff, defensive one.

“I begged Spartacus to put me on the Ludus assignment. He wasn’t going to, but I was relentless. I wanted so badly to go into the field and to bring them down that it was an obsession of mine for years. Totally unhealthy, of course, but Spartacus understood, even if it went against his better judgement to let me work the case.”

Nasir’s mouth felt dry, so he took a deep drink from his water bottle. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever was coming next. “Why is it an obsession?” 

Agron sighed raggedly, and Nasir heard unutterable pain in it. “I told you my brother was dead. The truth is he was murdered. Duro was like you, kidnapped and sold as a slave.” Agron sniffed, his hands tightening on the log they sat on until the knuckles turned white. “They sold him, like a slab of meat, to some sadistic bastard. I was told the man didn’t buy slaves for sexual purposes. He just wanted to torture them.”

“Oh, Agron.” Nasir winced at what he described. He was aware that not all slaves were trained to sexually submit to their masters as he had been. Some were merely domestic servants, while others were conditioned solely to accept beatings and whippings. He covered Agron’s hand on the log next to him. 

He took strength from Nasir’s touch and continued, throat tight. “We were close to locating him, but we were too late. I was too late. That sick fuck had beaten him until he was nearly dead, then dumped him in an alley behind a dumpster. Someone found him and took him to the hospital, but by that time, he was already gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nasir whispered, wishing there was something else he could say.

“I rushed to the hospital as soon as I heard. I didn’t even get to say – I could barely identify his body. It was so – there were so many cuts and slashes –”

He choked on a silent sob, and Nasir reached up to bring Agron head down to rest against his shoulder, stroking his short hair gently. 

Agron had no will to resist Nasir’s embrace. He laid one hand on the arm cradling his neck and let his grief pour out of him until he was emotionally drained. Only then did he pull away, embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be – hey,” Nasir placed one hand on his cheek and turned Agron’s face until their gazes met. “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for telling me about your brother. I’m devastated you and he had to go through that.”

Agron fell into the deep brown pools of Nasir’s eyes. Where they were normally downcast – in shyness or uncertainty perhaps, Agron didn’t know – now they were warm and confident. 

“I just thought you should know that it’s personal for me. I wasn’t able to save my brother, but I’m going to do everything in my power to save those men and women still living as their slaves. They’re not going to get away with it, I promise you. Ludus and everyone who’s ever done business with them will pay, and their victims will get their lives back.”

Nasir didn’t have the words to describe what he was feeling. His eyes burned and his heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. He grabbed Agron’s hand and held it in his lap between both of his own while looking at the stunning vista surrounding them. 

_Everything is going to be okay._


	5. Beloved Pet

In his home office, Agron could hear the treadmill running in the room next door. He didn’t know where Nasir got the energy to run after their hike earlier that morning; he was worn out. 

“So,” Agron explained to his captain over the video feed on his computer, “Aside from being slightly underweight and mildly malnourished, he’s in pretty great physical health. There is one thing the doctor found though, he’s back-jacked.” A slang term that meant he had a tracking device implanted in his body. 

“He is?” Spartacus sounded excited. “I’ll need to have our guys look at it right away. Did Quin tell you Nasir had a tracker?”

“No, I had no idea. And it’s still inside him right now. They implanted it at the base of his neck and it’s going to take surgery to remove due to it being so near the spinal cord. It wasn’t something they could do during a routine visit.”

“This is great news. If all the slaves are tagged, maybe our tech-sperts can find a way to hack the signal and locate the rest, the ones who’ve already been sold. Let me know as soon as the chip has been removed. How’s he handling being out in the world again?”

Agron wanted to hedge, but knew better than to BS Spartacus. “I’m worried that he has PTSD. In fact, I’m confident he does, but I think he won’t like the idea of going to therapy. I obviously can’t order him to go.”

Spartacus’ eyes were sympathetic. “No, you can’t. I think if you bring up the subject gently, he’d be open to it. He seemed to gravitate towards you at the office.”

“After reading that pamphlet you gave me and seeing some of his symptoms, I fibbed and told him it was department policy that he go. I think it would be very beneficial in the long run.”

“I agree. It really should be mandatory after going through something so traumatic. I mean, _you’re_ required to have three sessions with a therapist in the event you shoot someone. If a cop were to be captured and tortured, their CO would send them to therapy to deal with it, there’s no question. I don’t see how this is any different.”

“I’ve made an appointment for him for this coming Monday. I hope after a couple sessions he’ll see he needs help and will want to continue going on his own. Are there any support groups I can put him in contact with? Any who works solely with victims of human trafficking?”

Spartacus scratched his chin in contemplation. “None that I’m aware of offhand, but I’ll make some calls, hopefully dig something up.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I don’t want you coming in for the next couple weeks –”

“Spartacus,” Agron said warningly. “You’re not taking me off this case.”

“I’m not,” his captain agreed gravely. “But you shouldn’t be coming in and out of the station too much right now. I don’t want anyone making the assumption that you’re involved with the police. It’s looking like you may need to resume your undercover work at Ludus before this thing’s wrapped up. You can still work from home and communicate via link or vid-feed. Your priority right now is to help Mr. Zaki get his life back.”

Agron nodded. “I’ll do everything in my power to help him. But please, don’t use him as a distraction for me. I still want to be a part of this case. It means a lot to be part of the task force who will eventually take them down. You can’t take that away from me.”

Spartacus looked at him in a way that made Agron think his captain was seeing past his face and reading his soul. “Of course we’ll keep you updated. You have my word.”

***

Agron left his office at the same moment a sweaty Nasir was exiting his home gym. “Good run?”

Nasir nodded, crossing his arms over his stomach. 

“How on earth did you find the energy to do that after our hike this morning? Seriously? I’m exhausted just looking at you.”

He shrugged. “I like running. It gives me something physical to do, something else to focus on other than…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged again. 

Agron went to the cooling unit in the kitchen to get Nasir a bottle of water. “What do you want to do for dinner? I bet you’re hungry after all that.”

“I want to get drunk.”

Agron froze, Nasir’s response surprising him. Against his better judgement, he handed Nasir a beer instead.

“Is there anything stronger?”

“Not really. What did you have in mind?” 

“Whisky? I don’t think I can go to a bar though. I haven’t been to one since…” _I was kidnapped._

Replacing the beer, Agron closed the door of the cooling unit and turned to face the other man. “Sure. I can run to the liquor store while I’m picking up dinner. What’ll you have?”

Nasir combed his sweat-drenched hair away from his face. “I really don’t feel like eating. While you’re out, may I.. I mean, would you mind if I took a – a shower?”

“Of course,” Agron was quick to reassure him. “Please, treat this like your own home. You never have to ask.”

Nodding uncomfortably, Nasir moved toward the bathroom while Agron threw on a coat and headed to his garage. 

Time seemed to move in slow-motion as he adjusted the water, shucked his workout clothes, and climbed in the shower. This one luxury, more than anything else, was what he’d missed most during his enslavement. Feeling the scalding water sluicing over his head and shoulders was heaven. Though Agron had given him unimpeded access, he still hesitated at using the shampoo and bar of soap. It had been so long since he’d used either of those things, he almost felt like he wasn’t good enough to waste it on. 

He must have been in the shower much longer than he thought, since he heard Agron’s return just seconds after he turned off the water and began drying off. 

“Nasir?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Nasir called back, wishing he’d been dried and dressed by the time Agron got home. It didn’t take him long to pull his long hair back into a bun and dress in soft blue flannel sweatpants and a long-sleeved gray shirt. When he reentered the living room, Agron was eating out of a paper take-out box with wooden chopsticks. The screen was set to some off-world, soccer-like sport Nasir didn’t know the name of. 

“Whisky, as requested.” Agron pointed to a tall, round bottle and two glasses on the coffee table with his chopsticks, then indicated the kitchen counter behind him where several more white and blue take-out boxes sat. “I got extra in case you changed your mind. It’s not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Thanks, _mom_ ,” Nasir said dryly, pouring himself a generous glass. “But I’m actually aware of that already. You didn’t have to buy me food.”

Agron shrugged one shoulder. “If you don’t eat it, I can always have it for breakfast tomorrow. I don’t always eat as well as we did this morning.”

“So, does the extra glass mean you’ll be joining me?”

Agron nodded and swallowed a bite. “I’ll warn you in advance, I’m a total lightweight.”

Nasir smirked and relaxed on the opposite end of the sofa where Agron sat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Half an hour later, Nasir luxuriated in the warm buzz the whisky gave him. This was what he wanted to feel, that wonderful numbing sensation intoxication promised. Agron clumsily poured himself another glass. Boy, he’d not been kidding when he called himself a lightweight. Nasir found it endearing and sweet, the happy drunk Agron became when given a few drinks. 

“I had this stereotypical idea in my head of what I thought you were like. I expected this tough, alpha-male cop type, you know, drinking with the boys at the end of every week? But you’re just a big teddy bear, aren’t you? Can’t hold your alcohol. I think you’re at your limit. I’m cutting you off.” Nasir grabbed the bottle from him and shoved it upright between two couch cushions beside him where Agron couldn’t reach it. 

“I’m none of those things,” Agron agreed easily. “It’s bad for you, being drunk all the time. So I don’t do it.”

“I really missed it these past two years. They never gave us alcohol.”

“Please don’t start a drunk problem… I mean drinking problem.” Agron turned so his back rested against the armrest of the couch and he faced Nasir. “You don’t need this.” To illustrate his point, he downed the remaining whisky in his glass in one gulp. 

The corner of Nasir’s mouth turned up in amusement. “I won’t. I just like the numbness of it, like I can detach myself from what happened to me. I don’t feel worthless because I just don’t feel.” _Woah_ … Maybe he was drunker than he thought to blurt that out. 

Agron scowled and shook his head vigorously in denial. “You are worth…” he trailed off as he searched for the right word, finally settling on, “full. I read at your file. You are smart and are not a quitter, even when they made you re-do those classes in school and held you back. And you got a job when you were kicked out of home and paid for school yourself. That’s very admire-full.”

“Admir… Oh! Admirable.” Maybe he should be angry that Agron knew such personal stuff about him, but for some reason he didn’t seem to mind. “You saw that my parents kicked me out? Did you know it was because I came out of the closet?”

“They… put you in a closet?”

Nasir smiled in spite of himself, which made Agron grin happily in response. “No, I told them I was gay and they kicked me out. Told me I wasn’t their son anymore.”

“You’re gay? That’s great!” Agron’s dimples were out in full force, then a look of horror replaced them. “No, wait. That’s bad! Very bad for me. Are you sure?”

“Sure that I’m gay? Fairly certain, yes.”

“Oh.” Agron looked crestfallen, but then his expression brightened. “No, wait. I knew that already. You were last seen at a gay bar, before you went missing.”

A sharp pain lanced his chest at memory those words evoked and Nasir drank more whisky to remedy it. “Someone saw me right before I was kidnapped?”

“Sure!” Agron lifted his cup to his lips, then looked at it in shock when he saw it was empty. “You were seen arguing with some little twat, one of your fellow college students… Tiber, no, Tiger? Tigerius? I don’t remember. Anyway, it was that tip that helped track down Ludus and finally locate their training and auction house.”

Nasir stared dumbly for several heartbeats. Was Agron talking about T? That little jerk who’d abducted him after Nasir had shot him down? If he ever saw that asshole again he’d get Nasir’s foot shoved so far up his ass, he’d be tying Nasir’s shoelaces with his tongue. He had absolutely no memory of T taking classes with him though. 

“I ask you a question?”

“ _Can_ you ask me a question? Go for it.”

“I think I shouldn’t be asking this question. I wanted to ask Quin and Marc, but I chickened out. Don’t be… Don’t be offended. Okay? It’s all hyper-thetical.”

Nasir took another drink to fortify himself. “Ask me.”

“The sex slaves, they made you be submissive. Did they ever, were you ever made to be the top?”

“Huh?”

“If, say if I really was a prick senator buying a slave for real. I wouldn’t want to fuck you. If I asked you to fuck me, were you trained for that?”

“Did they train us to top, you mean? To dominate? Uh, no. Always be submissive.”

“Oh. Well, good thing I’m not a prick senator, huh?” He grinned widely – then passed out. 

***

“What the hell was so special about the Syrian? He was a disrespectful little bitch, barely housebroken. You have access to countless slaves, many more attractive than he. I don’t understand why you can’t just put him out of your mind.”

Tiberius saw red at Sabinus’ words. As always, he took his anger out on the thing before him rather than his best friend. Their newest pain slave was strung up before him, and with the use of his long-handled cattle-prod, he could shock the slave without even getting up from his comfy chair. 

“You’re right, Sab. You _don’t_ understand. It was the Syrian’s beauty that first drew me to him, yet it was his defiance that kept me coming back for more.” But that was only part of the story. No one, not even Sabinus, knew how he and the Syrian first met, nor their whole history. That was the real reason why he couldn’t get the stubborn slave out of his mind. “What I’ve done to him should have broken him.” Tiberius chortled in disbelief. “You should have been there the last time I saw him. I gave him an order and he all but laughed in my face. He _smirked_ at me. There he stood, naked and collared, _owned_ , yet he dared to _smirk_ at me!” He jabbed the pain slave in the inner thigh and the man screamed past his bite-gag and more tears fell down his face. 

Sabinus stroked the short hair at the base of Tiberius’ neck. “You are not responsible for his failed training. Some slaves are beyond even the most experienced master. I’ve never seen a better trainer than you.”

Tiberius scoffed, reclining in his armchair and dislodging Sabinus’ hand. “My father would wholeheartedly disagree with you on that account.”

“He will soon see what I do. Without the Syrian around, you’ll be able to focus on your success with the others. Trust me on this, it’s better now he’s been sold off. He’s someone else’s problem now.”

Tiberius nodded, but kept his eyes on the slave before him. Sabinus was his oldest friend and the only one who could read him better than his father. If Sab had any inkling of what he planned to do, he’d surely attempt to stop him for his own good. The logical portion of his mind knew his friend spoke the truth, but he’d been entertaining a notion for weeks that no amount of prettily-spoken logic could kill. 

The Syrian belonged to him and him alone. If he could tame the untameable, if he could break the proud whore once and for all, his father would never belittle him again. He’d become a man deserving of respect. Tiberius grinned unseeingly at the pain slave, imagining the look on his father’s face when he walked before Mistress Lucretia and Quintus with the Syrian crawling at his heel. 

His cock throbbed and thickened at the prospect. He glanced sideways at his friend, who, as usual, was giving him his full and undivided attention. “Come, Sab.” Throwing aside the cattle-prod, he strode out of the playroom and headed to his private suite of rooms, loyal Sabinus at his side. 

Once in his bedroom, Tiberius retrieved the simple, low-tech dog collar they played with from time to time. He turned to Sabinus. “Will you wear it again for me, my beloved pet?”

Sabinus looked at him with open affection, an expression he did his best to duplicate and return, even though he didn’t feel it in the same way Sab did. “I will.”

“Then you know what to do. Puppies don’t wear people clothes.”

Sabinus stripped without hesitation. Once he was naked, he dropped to all fours and allowed Tiberius to buckle the collar around his neck. 

While Tiberius gathered toys from the wardrobe, Sabinus said, “One day, I expect you to tell me who this ‘Nasir’ is.” He turned to see Sabinus fingering the metal studs that spelled out “Nasir” on his collar. “I don’t have any reason to be jealous, do I?”

Toys in hand, he knelt in front of Sabinus, hooked a finger beneath the collar, and angled Sab’s head so he could kiss him. Though his first instinct as a trainer would be to gag a slave who spoke out of turn – perhaps put him in an electric shock collar – he had to modify his techniques when playing with Sabinus. Besides, he was really looking forward to that talented tongue being unleashed on his cock in a minute, so it wouldn’t do to restrain it just now. “Nasir is the name of my beloved pet,” he said, stroking Sabinus’ cheek so his doggie would think it was him Tiberius spoke of. 

“I love this game. I love being your pet. You can do anything you want to me. Say the word, and I’ll get ‘Property of Tiberius’ tattooed over my heart.”

Tiberius held back a smirk. If he tattooed Sab anywhere, it would be high on the inside of his leg near his groin… or on his ass. He didn’t care to own Sab’s heart – just his sexy body. But as always, he smiled and kissed his friend again, stroking Sab’s bare chest.

Hoping Sabinus was placated, he clipped a leash to the collar and let it hang on the floor. Then he held up the fist mitts. His well-trained pet allowed him to slide them over his hands, effectively trapping his fingers. Next was the perky tail butt plug. He pushed it between Sabinus’ lips, getting it nice and wet before invading his ass with it. 

Sabinus gasped and moaned when he shoved it in too fast, and Tiberius slapped his flank. “Bad dog! That’s not what puppies sound like. What noises do dogs make?” 

Eager to please him, Sabinus let out an enthusiastic bark. 

Tiberius let out a sigh, somewhere between expectation and exasperation. Now, why couldn’t he get the _real_ Nasir to do that?


	6. First Times

Nasir’s heart pounded and his blood rushed hotly through his veins. He’d never been this angry in all his life. These assholes thought they could own him? Fuck them all. Somehow he’d get free of these restraints and he’d straight up murder every one of those pricks who’d had a hand in his abduction.

Especially that younger-looking one who’d tried to pick him up at the bar right before he’d been injected with a sedative. Arrogant asshole. He’d hogtie that bastard and throw him nuts-first into a – 

A sharp slap across the face brought him out of his furious musings. 

“Are you listening to me, whore? I was telling you about your re-education. It’s rude to ignore your trainer. Apologize to me or you will be reprimanded. Twenty lashes.”

“Fuck. You.” He’d flip the kid off too, if only his hands weren’t bound. While he’d been drugged, someone had cuffed his wrists and ankles to a series of pulleys. Though he was currently hanging spread-eagled against a wall, he could see the mechanics of the contraption could allow for him to be brought almost anywhere in the room with the twist of a dial. 

That response earned him another slap to the face. “We are getting off to such a bad start. Say, ‘please forgive me, Master T. I will never disrespect you again’.”

“I’m going to shove my hand down your throat, rip out your spinal column, and beat you with it, you pathetic quim! Release me!”

T’s face glowed red and his hands shook in anger as he walked to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a black ball gag. “You’ve just gotten your speaking privileges revoked. You’ll wear this until you can speak to your masters respectfully. Open your mouth.” 

Nasir rolled his eyes and shot T a condescending look. When the young man tried to pry his jaw open, Nasir bit his hand, drawing blood. 

“You bitch!” T slapped Nasir again, leaving behind a red smear across his cheek. “Sab!”

A second man with loose, dark blond curls rushed into the room. “Yes?”

“Help me gag our newest slave.”

It was much harder to resist two sets of hands and after only a couple minutes, Nasir found himself gagged as well as bound. He glared his hatred at both of them, chafing his wrists raw in an effort to slacken the cuffs binding him. The new man stared at him dispassionately, as though Nasir were a painting he wasn’t sure he wanted hanging in his house.

“Thank you, Sab. You’re dismissed.”

The one called Sab looked vaguely surprised. “Are you sure? I normally assist you with new acquisitions. I could –”

“You’re dismissed,” T repeated, never taking his eyes off Nasir. When the door slid shut, T stepped closer to Nasir until their bodies pressed together. He skimmed an almost loving hand up Nasir’s naked chest and brought it to rest lightly on the back of his neck. The other hand slid briefly around Nasir’s open lips. 

“You’re so much more attractive like this. If only you were on your knees looking up at me. With your mouth gaping open like this, it looks like you’re begging for my cock.”

Nasir rolled his eyes again. He couldn’t help it. _Come on!_ Who did this child think he was fooling? He didn’t look old enough to have a learner’s permit, let alone be the Dom he was obviously trying to be. Nasir tried to head-butt him, but T saw the motion and leaned back at the last second. 

T’s lip curled and the hand on the back of his neck tightened, one of the fingers pressing a spot that made him scream involuntarily. It felt like he’d just been stabbed. What the hell had they done to him when he’d been unconscious? The pressure was gone as quickly as it had come, but the spot now throbbed painfully. 

Smiling, the young man licked and sucked a spot on Nasir’s collar bone. “You may not acknowledge it now, slave, but I own you. You don’t know how long I’ve yearned for this moment.” He ran his fingers through Nasir’s hair, and Nasir twisted his head violently to dislodge them. “It didn’t have to be this way, you know. You _forced_ me to treat you like this. You should have accepted my offer to become my submissive. You’d never be my equal, but you wouldn’t have been a slave.”

T forked his fingers in Nasir’s hair, holding his skull firmly in place. “Now, you have nothing. You _are_ nothing. We will erase your past. I already know you had no family. Soon, any friends you had will forget you. From now on, you don’t even have a name. But,” T leaned in close and whispered in Nasir’s ear. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll use it when we’re alone. Would you like that, Nasir?”

Nasir roared past his gag. His whole body shook in anger and his wrists bled due to the strain he was putting on them trying to get free.

T moved away again to rummage through the cabinet. “Since I bagged you, I will be the one to oversee your re-education, but I won’t be alone. I think a good gang-rape would be the perfect way to help you learn your place, whore. Before we get the rest of the guys in here though, I wanted a little one-on-one time with you.”

Nasir watched in horror as T adjusted the pulleys so that his ankles were hanging even in height to his wrists. He didn’t stop struggling with his restraints, but it was in vain, they weren’t budging. T stood between his thighs, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his rock hard dick. 

“Has anyone ever fucked you, my pet? Judging by your tight little hole, I’m guessing not.” He pressed the tip of his dry thumb just past the ring of muscle and Nasir jerked, trying not to cry out. He _never_ bottomed. There had never been anyone special enough in his life that he’d wanted to experience that with, no one he trusted enough. The thought of this prick being his first enraged him. Hot tears of anger seeped out of the corners of his eyes. 

T saw them and smirked. “Normally when I get an anal virgin, I take more time opening him up, but you don’t know how eager I am to feel you tight around me. I can’t believe how long you made me wait, you coy slut.”

Nasir wanted to yell, to curse, to punch, hell, to spit – _anything!_ But he was helpless. As T slicked up his cock, Nasir still jerked and twisted in his bonds, yet it didn’t stop T from grabbing hold of his hips and pressing the tip of his cock into his clenched anus.

***

Nasir must have screamed himself awake. He was suddenly on a bed in a dark room drenched in sweat. The door slid open and he scrambled away from it, sucking in a sharp breath when the lights came on, partially blinding him. 

“Nasir! Are you okay?” 

A massive, backlit figure loomed above him, scaring him even more. “Stay back!” The quaver in his voice pissed him off, but he couldn’t help it.

“Shh, Nasir, it’s okay. You’re safe here, I promise.” Agron flipped the switch for the bedside table lamp, casting a softer, more diffused glow than the harsh overhead light, which he turned off. 

“Agron. Please, don’t – don’t – don’t come any closer. I need space.”

“Of course.” The other man leaned against the opposite wall and cradled his head in one large hand. “What can I do for you? Can I get you anything? Do you want to be left alone?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Nasir noticed he was still crouched in the corner, and quickly moved into a slightly more dignified seated position on the bed. “I don’t know,” he repeated unnecessarily. “I think I want to sit in the living room and watch mindless TV to get my mind off…” He looked Agron in the eyes and saw compassion there, but no pity. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Agron said gently, then he led the way out into the hall. 

While Nasir sat on the sofa and turned on the screen, Agron was in the kitchen fumbling with a medicine bottle. “Are you alright?” he asked as Agron washed a few pills down with water from the cooling unit. 

“Oh, yeah. Hangover’s starting early, is all.” He took his spot on the far end of the sofa. 

“I didn’t think – you’d probably like to get back to bed. I feel bad now that I woke you up. You don’t have to stay with me. I’m fine now, really.”

Agron waved his words away. “I don’t mind. What are we watching?” Agron offered him some water. Nasir grabbed the bottle and took a sip, then sat it on the couch cushion between them.

Nasir managed to find a re-run of the same sporting event he and Agron had been watching earlier that evening. Due to the whisky, they’d missed the last part of it. Nasir didn’t care for sports unless he was either playing in the game or watching it live from the arena, but it captivated Agron. 

During a commercial break, Agron turned to him and asked softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Nasir didn’t need Agron to clarify what ‘it’ was. He was quiet for a long time before responding with a question of his own. “What’s the first thing you remember about your first sexual encounter?”

If Agron was shocked or offended by his intensely personal question, he didn’t show it. He thought for a moment. “Fear of getting caught. My boyfriend and I were sixteen. Between school and our overprotective parents, the only time we were able to be alone was when we went to summer camp. We snuck out one evening to fool around. Looking back on it, I don’t know why we didn’t wait until everyone was asleep. We climbed through the window of the little boat shack by the river and fooled around a bit. We only got as far as oral, because I was so sure one of the councilors would catch us.” The game had resumed, but Agron’s attention was focused on him. 

“Was he your first time bottoming?” 

“No. He and I broke up before school started up again. My ‘first time’ was a few years later in collage. The main impression I get when I recall the memory is… nervous excitement.” He looked at Nasir expectantly, but didn’t rush him in reciprocating with his own story.

“My dream, my nightmare, was a memory. Some of the things that happened to me while I was enslaved are fuzzy, like it kind of runs together, but some events will be etched into my mind’s eye until the day I die. I’d never bottomed until I was captured. I’d always had this idea that I’d be in a committed relationship with someone I loved, who loved me, when I decided to finally do it. Just now, it felt like being back there again, chained up in that dungeon. I _felt_ him invade my body. Nothing they did to me after that hurt worse than that first time, physically or emotionally. If there was a way, I’d have killed myself to be free of the pain.”

Agron averted his face, but not before Nasir saw a tear slide down his cheek. “I wish there was something I could do, some magic phrase I could say that would take away all the pain you’re feeling. It kills me that I’m helpless in this.”

_Just like he was helpless in rescuing Duro_. Though Agron didn’t say it, Nasir knew he was remembering the brother he was unable to save. “I know that about you, Agron. It means a lot that you want to though. Somehow, it helps knowing you would help, if you could.”

As Agron looked at him with a sad smile, Nasir reached out to him. Immediately, Agron met his fingers half way and clasped his hand tightly, reassuringly. 

Not for the first time, Nasir recognized Agron as someone he’s pursue – in a parallel universe. The man was incredibly good-looking, but not vain about it, kind and gentle, but possessed the heart of a lion. He wished he’d met Agron in another lifetime, one where he was someone else, someone not ruined or soiled by all the shit life had thrown at him this time around. 

Uncomfortable with the turn his thoughts had taken, Nasir extricated his hand from Agron’s warm one and returned his attention to the screen, where the green and silver-clad half of the stadium roared their approval of whatever had just happened in the game. 

***

Nasir woke up on the sofa with a sore back. He sat up and groaned. 

“Sorry,” Agron called from the breakfast table. “I would have carried you back to your room, but I fell asleep right next to you. Need any painkillers? Do you have a hangover?”

Nasir nodded and shook a pair of pills from the medicine bottle Agron had taken late last night – or had it been early that morning? Honestly, he thought his current state had less to do with a whisky hangover and more to do with reliving that terrible memory.

“Breakfast?” Agron asked. 

Nasir shook his head and sat down opposite Agron at the table, where the other man was devouring a bowl of oatmeal topped with walnuts. “I want to ask you something,” he said quietly. 

“Shoot.” 

“It’s about something you said yesterday evening, after we’d had a bit to drink.”

Agron chuckled. “I can’t be held accountable for anything I say while under the influence.” He noticed Nasir was holding himself very stiffly, but attributed it to his shitty couch until the man spoke. 

“Do you have a problem with me being gay?”

If there had been food in his mouth, he’d have choked on it. “What? No!”

Nasir looked at him suspiciously. “You can be honest with me. You certainly wouldn’t be the first person I’ve met who –”

“Your sexuality isn’t a problem for me,” Agron interrupted. “What on earth gave you that impression?”

“After I came out to you last night, you said it was ‘very bad for me’, or something along those lines. You don’t remember?”

Red suffused Agron’s face and neck. He _did_ remember that. “It’s not what you think.” He hesitated, reluctant to explain himself. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter. You won’t ever have to worry about me coming on to you or anything. And if you want me to leave, I understand.”

“No. God! This is so embarrassing.” He couldn’t meet Nasir’s gaze. “ _I’m_ gay. Hearing you were too, to my drunken mind, made the notion of – of kissing you seem like a real possibility. But even drunk, I knew it would be totally inappropriate.”

Nasir sat nonplussed. “You wanted to kiss me?”

“The important thing is that I’ll never do it, you understand? I want you to feel safe here, for you to heal. Your trust is very important to me. I may not have it yet, but I would never do anything that would cause you to doubt me. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.”

Nasir almost responded, _kissing you wouldn’t make me uncomfortable_ , but luckily caught himself. His near-slip surprised him. He wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone, and Agron was the last person he could have.

“So, maybe we shouldn’t drink together anymore?” If a drunk Agron tried to kiss him, a drunk Nasir would let him. Agron was right, it wasn’t a good idea.

Agron smiled. “I’ll stick with one light beer a night.”


End file.
